Constellations: Andromeda's Origins, Part I

It was Summer. It was a particular day in Summer, in fact. It was the day that the alpha female of a nameless pack was giving birth to her litter. The breeze gently cradled leaves of various trees, rocking them back and forth hypnotically. A gentle beam of sunlight calmly found its way in between every crack and crevice in the area, casting a blanket of radiance over the forest. The great thing about sunlight is that it knows nothing. It can't tell if the creatures beneath it are upset or happy, in comfort or in agony. It's entirely objective, not influenced by opinions or emotion. The sunlight does not, and will never know what happens beneath its tarp of warmth.

In the previously mentioned camp, a previously mentioned birth was taking place. Almost all ranking wolves were huddled around the alpha female, watching the birth of the future leader. The first pup to open its eyes would be deemed the heir to the position of alpha male or female, and their future mate would take the remaining role. There were supposed to be no exceptions, whoever won, won. Right?

"Just a bit more pushing, and the last two pups will be members of the world!" The medic called out to the alpha female, her voice laced with triumph and hope. The she wolf did as she was told, and lo and behold, the last two pups of four were bathed in the light of day. They all immediately squirmed towards their mother's teat for milk, while they were named by their father, the alpha male. The largest and oldest of the four was named Cepheus, after the constellation representing a king. The second oldest was a girl, named Cassiopeia, after the constellation representing a queen. Next was Polaris, a boy named for the North star. Finally, the last pup was named. The runt of the litter was a girl, named Andromeda, after the constellation of the chained maiden. The small pup nosed her way towards her mother to get milk, but was pushed away by her siblings. The alpha male looked down at her tiny frame, and he asked the question that everyone in the medic den was thinking. "What if the smallest is the first to witness the daylight?" He asked his mate, his gruff and husky voice lined with disgust towards the runt of his litter. "Don't worry," The medic replied, "It's never happened before, it never wi-" Her last word was interrupted by the bright and hopeful gaze of Andromeda, the runt.